


Elim Garak Learns To Receive Hugs

by bongbingbong



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Discussions of alien sex, Elim Garak: Anxiety Lizard, Julian and Garak being Bad At Communicating, Julian is a weepy drunk, M/M, Post-Episode: s02e22 The Wire, Pre-Slash, but for laughs mostly, but only because they're so nervous
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-05
Updated: 2020-07-15
Packaged: 2021-03-04 18:48:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25091152
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bongbingbong/pseuds/bongbingbong
Summary: Garak is an anxious lizard and is absolutely terrible at allowing himself to be treated with any kind of tenderness. He tends to lash out and get irritable, because kindness is scary. Julian sets out to fix that problem.
Relationships: Julian Bashir/Elim Garak
Comments: 13
Kudos: 57
Collections: Deep Space Discord Literary Universe





	1. Chapter 1

It was an odd week on the promenade. Well, perhaps not any more odd in a general sense, given the unpredictable nature of the station. But for one Doctor Julian Bashir personally, it was an odd week. He was surprised how much he had come to rely on his lunches with Garak - skipping yesterday had thrown his sense of schedule out of whack more than he cared to admit. Everything felt a little odd, a little wrong, like he was waiting for something that wasn’t going to happen. 

It was because of this that he was currently on his way to Garak’s Clothiers on his lunch break, bringing him to the second oddity of the last twenty-four hours: the fact that Garak’s store currently looked like it could be shut. The door was open, but all the lights had been dimmed inside, like there was nobody around. Strange, perhaps he didn’t want to be disturbed. Julian decided that he would go inside and find out if that were the case.

Inside, it was quiet save for the constant background hum of the station, and the sound of sharp scissors slicing through material. It was a sound Julian loved - the solid texture of it, the precision and uniformity in the rhythm Garak had going. The sound stopped abruptly.

“Doctor Bashir, what a surprise,” said Garak. Another oddity; Garak’s voice was usually so alive with emphasis and energy, but today he spoke in almost a monotone. Was he sick?

“I was… in the area,” said Julian, trying not to squint in the dim light as he tried to make out Garak’s features. He didn’t look pale and clammy like he had when they’d removed his wire. He came closer, trying his best to seem casual as he scrutinised Garak for any signs of illness.

“This isn’t the largest space station Doctor, you’ll find that we’re always ‘in the area,’” replied Garak.

“I guess you’re right,” said Julian, “but I just wanted-” whatever excuse his brain had been reaching for withered in his throat as Garak looked up at him for the first time. He didn’t look ill, and Julian’s gut feeling was that he wasn’t. But he did look… tired. Wrung out, like he had been emptied of something. Garak squeezed his eyes shut and briefly rubbed at the bridge of his nose. Julian’s first thought was withdrawal, although he had seemed perfectly healthy for the last few weeks. Perhaps-

“Well?” said Garak, his voice taking on an edge of impatience. That too, was new.

“I just wanted to see if you were okay,” said Julian, sounding lame even to his own ears. 

“As you can see, I’m perfectly fine. If you were referring to my current lighting situation, it was just that my eyes are feeling a little sensitive today. Nothing for you to worry about.”

“Ah yes, because we had such a good run last time you assured me there was nothing to worry about,” said Julian with a smile. 

His gentle humour seemed to bounce right off Garak’s scales, as the Cardassian slammed his scissors down on the table.

“If your purpose in coming here was to berate me for past wrongdoings then I will thank you to get out of my shop,” said Garak, his voice suddenly steely. 

“Sorry, sorry - that wasn’t my meaning at all,” said Julian, putting his hands up in a gesture of surrender, “we just… you know, we missed lunch yesterday so I just wanted to make sure.”

“Well, as you can see, I’m perfectly fine, with the exception of my eyes - and for the sake of  _ total _ disclosure, a slight headache which I’m sure a night’s rest will cure. As you can see, I’m very busy right now, so if you don’t have any other queries that need answering. Well.” Garak returned to his cutting, resolutely avoiding looking at Julian any more. His movements seemed slightly sluggish, like someone who was fighting exhaustion and losing. Perhaps he was just tired.

“I’ll, uh… see you later then,” said Julian. He patted Garak’s arm awkwardly, but flinched when Garak pulled his arm away with a snarl. He didn’t say anything, but Julian got the distinct impression of an animal who had been cornered. It was time to back off.

So Garak was on the defensive for… something. Julian didn’t want to rule out illness, but he tended to have an instinct for this sort of thing. And his instincts told him there was something more here than a simple feeling of being unwell.

*

“D’you think he’s being stood up?” whispered Savannah.

“God, I hope not,” replied Susan.

The two of them were sat in their usual spot in the replimat for lunch. It was a week on from Julian’s uncomfortable encounter with Garak. He’d given Garak space for several days, and then casually inquired as to whether they would be meeting up for their usual today, which Garak had seemed almost relieved to confirm. Perhaps he’d just been having a bad day - except that he still hadn’t shown up. Julian stirred his tea listlessly, watching the mini whirlpool he made in his mug swirl and then settle. Unbeknownst to him, two of his friends were seated across the room from him, watching with interest.

“Maybe he’s caught up with something,” said Savannah, “maybe a customer’s taking forever.”

“Maybe,” echoed Susan, “but god I hope Garak shows up. Or else we’re gonna have to go to Quark’s tonight and listen to him do that not-quite-weepy thing he does when he thinks Garak’s mad at him.”

“I think it’s cute,” said Savannah.

“You just like it because he gets all sad and cuddly,” replied Susan.

“Oh, like you don’t - oh, he’s here!” 

Garak had indeed arrived - a little short of breath, suggesting that he’d rushed. Julian’s face lit up when he sat down at their table. Garak’s face was once more schooled into a polite smile, and he nodded his head at Julian by way of greeting.

“I must apologise for my lateness; I was kept away by a gentleman who was  _ extremely _ fussy about the fit of his pants.”

“That’s perfectly fine Garak, I’m just glad you’re here,” said Julian. 

“Oh, well then,” said Garak, and then paused, looking at the half-finished tea on Julian’s side of the table.

“My dear Doctor, don’t tell me you’ve been waiting here for me to arrive before getting something to eat?” he said, his eyes widening in surprise.

“Well, when two people have lunch together it is generally assumed that they’re going to eat at the same time, yes,” replied Julian. Garak didn’t reply, but his mouth quirked slightly at the corner. Then, to Julian’s horror, an uncomfortable silence descended on the two of them. As the seconds ticked by, Julian found it harder and harder to think of what to say as the anxiety ballooned out and took over his entire brain. Garak seemed to be having the same problem - he seemed to have frozen in place. Was he waiting for him to say something? Should he say something? His heart was starting to hammer.

“Should we… get something to eat?” said Julian, hating that his voice came out as a hoarse half-whisper.

“Yes,” said Garak, clearing his throat, “I think that might be a good idea.”

While they were up ordering their food, Savannah and Susan looked at each other in confusion.

“Did they just-” whispered Savannah.

“Yeah, that was super weird,” said Susan.

“They’re coming back, act natural!”

Susan shovelled a mouthful of Savannah's cold noodles into her mouth, then found she had to force herself not to spit them all out again. 

Garak and Julian had re-seated themselves and seemed to be having some kind of weird lunchtime standoff. First, Garak took in a breath like he was about to say something, but then he seemed to think better of it and shoved a forkful of his strange green and red salad in his mouth. Then, Julian gestured with his own fork like he was about to make a point, but did the same thing - he just started eating. The two of them ate in silence for some time after that while Susan and Savannah looked on, mystified at this new development in their friend’s… whatever it was he had going on with Garak.

“Whose turn is it for a new book?” said Julian finally, though the question was tentative, almost frightened.

“I wasn’t aware we were taking turns Doctor, merely exchanging literature when we felt it was appropriate?” said Garak, slightly confused. Julian blinked.

“Oh. Well, uh, do you have anything in mind for me?”

“Actually, it’s funny that you mention it, because I do indeed - I thought you might appreciate some of the works of our Cardassian poets. Does poetry interest you, doctor?”

“Yes!” said Julian, a little too eagerly. 

“Wonderful!” said Garak, “in that case you’ll have a most riveting time with this one - the one I have in mind spans several hundred pages as a matter of fact. I must admit I’ve been a little hesitant to bring it up until now since I was worried you might find it tedious, but since you’re so eager..?”

Garak looked at Julian expectantly.

“Y-yes,” replied Julian, doing his best to appear enthusiastic, “yes, I think that sounds wonderful! I - ah - I might not have time to read it as quickly as I have your other - which isn’t to say I don’t fully intend to read the entire thing, but I just wanted to make sure you-”

Julian paused at the self-satisfied smile that Garak was currently wearing.

“You’re teasing me,” he said, unable to hide the delighted grin from his face. 

“My dear doctor, I have no idea what you’re talking about,” replied Garak, and returned to his eating. A little way away, Susan and Savannah let out a breath they hadn’t realised they’d been holding. 

After that, it was a simple matter for Julian and Garak to fall back into easy conversation. Julian spoke about a Bolian man who kept showing up in the infirmary, insisting that he was there to oversee some repairs to the leftover Cardassian equipment there. After the first time Sisko had confirmed that this was a blatant lie, it had become apparent that the man simply believed that his expertise was such that Julian should just let him wander in and make “improvements.” 

“And you don’t think it’s possible this… Bolian is interested in perhaps sabotaging your infirmary?”

“What reason could he have to do that?” said Julian, confusion crossing his features.

“A personal grudge perhaps? Some unknown political motivations from Bolarus? For the sheer enjoyment of it?”

“Surely not,” said Julian, “that sounds ridiculous!”

“Stranger things have happened on your Deep Space Nine, Doctor.”

“True,” said Julian, then noticed a piece of greenery stuck to Garak’s sleeve.

“Hey, you’ve got a little something-” he said, reaching out a hand to grab it. Before he had time to notice the sudden alarm in Garak’s eyes, he found his hand swatted roughly away.

“Garak?” said Julian, his voice suddenly soft, like he was trying to calm a frightened animal. Garak carefully schooled his expression back into one that was more neutral.

“I apologise, Doctor Bashir - I must admit I’m not quite feeling myself today,” he said, his voice going back to that bare monotone from last week. 

“It’s okay,” said Julian, keeping his voice as gentle as he could make it, “I shouldn’t have reached out so suddenly like that-”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” snapped Garak, “that’s a perfectly normal gesture that perfectly normal people make; don’t mitigate your movements on my account.”

“Garak, I-”

“I must be getting back,” said Garak, and it seemed that in that moment, all of the… whatever emotion it was that had stirred up such a reaction in him - had drained away, leaving him once more empty and emotionless.

“ _ Garak _ .”

“Doctor.”

Garak stood up, picked up his plate, and left Julian at the table feeling very lost.

Savannah and Susan sat stunned, all pretence at “acting natural” forgotten.

“So,” said Susan, “bets on Quark’s tonight?”

*

When Julian made it back to the infirmary, Giuditta - the hologram who was also the station’s resident interspecies archivist - was there waiting for him. While they were wearing a Starfleet uniform for once (the skant version, of course), they seemed to have managed to convince someone to alter their programming to make the coloured panel a bright pink, to match their hair. Their commbadge was also shaped like a rose. 

Normally, Julian enjoyed their company, but after the lunch he’d had he was not in the mood to speak to anybody.

“Giuditta, if you’re here about the Bolian-”

“Who said I was here about anything?” said Giuditta. They were currently lounged on a biobed in a pose that suggested a beach visit more than the infirmary.

“I know you, you’ve been after a Bolian addition to your database for weeks now, and there’s finally one on the station who isn’t someone you’re going to accidentally start a diplomatic crisis with if you ask them about their sex life.”

“Oh,  _ that _ Bolian! Well, since you mentioned it-”

“Giuditta, no!”

“Giuditta yes!” they said, smiling brightly, “did your Bolian man mention being here with anybody? Or perhaps spoke about someone who’s caught his eye?”

“That’s doctor-patient confidentiality you’re asking me to violate!” said Julian, whose voice had suddenly gone up an entire octave.

“But he’s not your patient, Doctor,” said Giuditta.

“Look, if you want to hang around and talk to him yourself, that’s your prerogative,” said Julian, “but I can tell you that he has not mentioned any sort of attraction to anybody here on this station… or anywhere else for that matter!”

Giuditta suddenly looked very serious, and tilted their head to the side.

“You’re exhibiting signs of tension,” they said, looking him up and down. Julian crossed his arms.

“Well, I do have a stressful job,” he replied tersely.

“No, that’s not it,” they said, hopping off the biobed to get closer. Julian took a step back.

“When was the last time you were laid?” 

“What? I - er - Giuditta, you don’t just-” spluttered Julian, flailing his hands about as he struggled for words.

“You know, I’m still waiting on some information on Terran-Cardassian relations,” they added.

“Well you’ll have to keep waiting on that one!” said Julian. Irritation was beginning to creep into his voice. Giuditta’s brows furrowed in confusion.

“What do you mean? Surely your flirting isn’t going to go on forever.”

“What…  _ flirting _ are you talking about? Actually no - don’t answer that. I don’t want to know.”

“But you and Garak-” 

“What about me and Garak? There’s nothing “about” us at all! He won’t even let me touch him, let alone… any of that - not that I - oh, god,” Julian buried his head in his hands. 

Giuditta squeezed his shoulder in a way that they knew was comforting for Terrans. 

“Based on my knowledge of Cardassian flirting conventions, body language, and accounting for his word choice in the original Kardasi during your conversations, I’ve determined that Garak is definitely flirting with you when I’ve seen your interactions. Also based on your own body language, plus your-”

“Okay, okay Giuditta, I get the picture,” said Julian, looking around to make sure nobody else was listening in.

“Look, I know you’ve got a lot of… information stored on these things. But I’m telling you, Garak is not interested. I know for a fact that Cardassian flirting doesn’t involve shying away from touch, or swatting away a hand when it’s offered.”

Giuditta shrugged, “that part must be a Garak thing then. You should ask him.”

“For archival purposes?” said Julian, raising an eyebrow.

“Well, that. More importantly, I think it would make you happy. Think about it, Doctor!” said Giuditta, heading for the door - no doubt to go and find the irritating Bolian intruder. Perhaps he deserved whatever conversation they were about to dish out to him. However, they paused in the doorway.

“By the way, Doctor Bashir,” they said, a knowing smile on their face, “how  _ do _ you know so much about Cardassian flirting anyway? Been doing some research?”

They mercifully left Julian alone in the infirmary, silently cursing his big, stupid mouth.

*

Garak worked late that night. He’d been commissioned to do some particularly elaborate embroidery on some robes for a visiting Andorian dignitary, and he’d been staying back in the evenings to work on it. Generally it was a process he enjoyed, but now on the third night of his extra hours, Garak found that his neck and shoulders were sore even before he’d begun. The muscles that ran adjacent to his shoulder blades all felt like one hardened ball of pain. On top of all of that, it felt like they had edged the station’s temperature controls down again, probably to save on energy for one thing or another. Garak sighed and shivered, flexing his hands a few times before he started in on his work.

“Putting in overtime again?” said a voice from the doorway. Garak jumped, and then yelped as he stabbed the needle into his finger.

“Irena, is that you?” he said, squinting into the darkness. 

“Obviously - unless you gave somebody else a key that I don’t know of,” said Irena, making her way over to him. She was holding two cups of some sort of herbal tea.

“Oh, you’re an angel,” said Garak, accepting one of the cups and wrapping his stiff fingers around its warmth. 

“Don’t mention it.”

The two of them sipped their tea in amicable silence, Irena humming softly under her breath as her eyes traced the intricate patterns that Garak had been embroidering.

“I’ve missed you,” said Irena at length, “you’ve been keeping to yourself lately.”

“Yes, well,” said Garak, his voice trailing off.

“Something’s bothering you,” said Irena.

“Oh, a mere trifle my dear,” said Garak, his smile not quite reaching his eyes. Irena put her hand on his wrist to comfort him, but he gingerly pulled it away.

“Want to talk about it?” she said, not willing to press him too much.

“Not particularly. Actually, I can’t afford to waste any more time, I’ve only got a couple of nights left to finish this.”

Garak picked up his needle, thread, and fabric, but when he bent his neck over his work once more he grimaced at the pain that lanced between his shoulders.

“Sore?” said Irena, “it’s no wonder, sitting hunched over like that for hours.”

“This never used to happen,” grumbled Garak, “I must be getting old. I’ve never remembered my job being quite this painful.”

“I can help with that,” said Irena, walking around behind him.

“I don’t see how you can,” replied Garak, genuine confusion crossing his features.

“What, you’ve never had someone work a sore muscle out of your back?”

“I can’t say I have,” said Garak, “what does that entail, exactly?”

“Oh, well - can I touch your back?” said Irena, rolling up her sleeves.

“... I suppose so. Yes well, if it will help.”

“It will, I promise. I’m very good at this.” 

Irena placed her hands between Garak’s shoulder blades and pressed gently, moving them up and down lightly at first, but then pressing more firmly as she went.

“I don’t know about this,” said Garak a little uneasily. Irena stopped.

“Does it hurt?”

“Not really, it just - I’m not quite sure how to explain.”

“Should I stop?”

Garak considered this for a moment, but then gasped as Irena’s hand hit a particularly tender spot.

“Feels like you’ve got a rock sitting in there,” said Irena, “that’s got to be painful.”

“Yes,” said Garak, “although I can’t for the life of me figure out why you aggravating it is going to help.”

“It'll feel worse before it feels better.”

Garak was quiet for the rest of the time, his features set into a scowl from the pain that dug its claws through his back, up his neck ridges, into the base of his skull.

“Okay Garak, everything feels a little-” said Irena, and then stopped. Garak twisted his head to look at her, and noticed she was staring at the doorway. He followed her gaze, and saw Julian standing there. He had a datarod clenched in one hand, and his eyes were wide and… angry? But also watery, bright with unshed tears. His look was one of betrayal.

“Doctor, what-” began Garak, but then Julian turned and half-ran out of the shop.

“Is he-” said Irena, and Garak felt her lift her hands off his back. Could the Doctor have been… jealous? Garak hardly dared to believe it, and yet all the evidence was there. Garak let his head fall forward with defeat. The satisfaction that he felt from his now-loose muscles was embittered by his realisation - Julian Bashir might have actually returned his feelings, but now? How would he explain this?

*

“I held his hand, not one month ago,” slurred Julian, gesturing wildly with his glass. The amber liquid inside threatened to slosh over the rim. He was sat in Quarks with Savannah, Susan and Robertson. The teacher had been dragged out tonight despite several protests about the current state of their workload. The rationale had basically been that if Julian got too drunk, they needed someone with a “teacher voice” (Savannah’s words) in case things got out of hand. Why they couldn’t have just asked Bond to scare him was anybody’s guess, but as it stood, they were there nursing an uncharacteristic glass of orange juice and looking generally weary of the whole situation.

“It wasn’t like I grabbed it or anything, he gave it to me. He gave me h-his hand,” continued Julian, his voice cracking at the end of his sentence. Susan currently had her arm around his shoulders while he ranted, occasionally saying soothing-sounding words to him.

“I’m sure there’s just some sort of misunderstanding here,” said Savannah, “have you tried talking to him?”

“What good is that going to do?” said Julian, flinging his head back dramatically, “he won’t even touch me now! And he - I found him with…” his voice trailed off into a whisper as he ducked his head and hunched his shoulders. His three friends leaned in closer. 

“You… found him… with…”

“Irena,” said Julian, the pronouncement sounding like an accusation. Robertson stared at him.

“Julian…” they said, “Irena’s his friend. That’s not - you’ll find him with Irena half the nights of the week.”

“But they were  _ touching, _ ” he hissed, his eyes narrowing.

“That’s. That is a very normal thing that friends do,” said Susan, squeezing his shoulder by way of confirmation.

“You don’t understand!” said Julian, “Garak doesn’t do the touch thing! He won’t let me touch him! Why will he let Irena touch him! What’s she got that I don’t have? Gentler hands?”

“Doubtful,” said Savannah, “but let’s think about this logically for a moment. You and Garak are clearly very close. You haven’t done anything to offend him, and he’s seemed kind of off for the past week. The main thing that’s been happening is that he’s - what, skittish? When you touch him? That doesn’t mean he hates you.”

“Sometimes,” said Robertson, rubbing their temples, “people avoiding doing things because they’re afraid that others might find out that they want to do those things.”

Julian took a moment to consider this.

“That’s. Hm. Actually, knowing Garak? You might actually be onto something there - what book did that one come from?”

“Actually, that wasn’t from a literary work for once,” said Robertson, “that was from an awful old Terran horror movie.” 

Their gaze wavered, and their eyes fluttered shut for a moment.

“Rob?” said Julian, concern edging its way past his drunkenness.

“S’fine, just tired. I might turn in,” they said, shivering, “has someone been messing with the weather controls again?”

“Not that I know of,” said Savannah, watching with concern as Robertson pushed themself to their feet and trudged out of the bar.

“I suppose it’s out of the question to tell you to sit down and have a conversation with Garak like two normal people?” said Susan.

“Oh, Garak won’t like that,” said Julian, dangerously close to pouting.

“Well, what if we make him more comfortable with, you know, the whole touch thing?” continued Susan, “like we could show him that it’s totally fine and not out of the ordinary to hug your friends, even if you wish they were more like… “friends,” you know?” 

“So what, we stage a group hug in the replimat? That sounds-”

“Brilliant!” said Julian, beaming at the two of them.

“Okay Doctor med school genius salutatorian, let’s wait until you sober up to confirm that one.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Colds and other viruses: Canonically eliminated in the Trek universe  
> H/C writers: But consider this,,,,,,, No

The shops on the promenade were never in great condition at the best of times, and maintenance wasn’t really Bond’s job. However, when it came to somebody literally burning the word “Cardies” into the door of Garak’s shop (followed by a string of quite awful expletives), well, that was a little bit different.

“It looks like it was done with some sort of a cutter beam. Not a very good one at that,” said Bond, inspecting the charred duranium door closely.

“Yes, the irregularities in the beam suggest something homemade,” agreed Garak, his voice flat and tired, “unfortunately, I would say the vast majority of the Bajorans on the station likely own something along those lines. They came in quite handy during the, ah-”

“The occupation,” said Bond, “yeah, that figures.” 

She ran one finger along the blackened groove that the cutter had made, and sighed.

“This is going to have to be replaced. We can’t have something like this on display in a public area.”

“I would imagine not,” said Garak with a nod.

“I’ll arrange for someone to come by later with a temporary cover, but for now I think you should just keep your door open for the day so that it can’t be seen.”

Garak wrapped his arms around himself and sighed. He’d only recently organised to have his shop kept at a slightly warmer temperature, too. 

“Thank you Lieutenant, your help is much appreciated,” he said, unwilling to bother her further. He began to shuffle back into his shop, planning to enjoy the warmth before it escaped out of his open door. Bond, on the other hand, was a little sharper than he gave her credit for.

“What’s wrong?” she said, halting him in the doorway.

“Nothing you can do much about Lieutenant, though I appreciate you asking,” he said with a small smile. 

Bond raised an eyebrow.

“Alright, well at the risk of leaving the mystery intact and sounding far more dramatic than the reality of the situation,” said Garak, “it’s cold, and the open door is going to let the heat out. That’s all.”

“Oh that’s right, Cardassians are used to much warmer temperatures, aren’t you?” said Bond. Garak nodded.

“I imagine my fingers will be quite numb by this evening.”

“Well, you’re a tailor right? Make yourself some gloves,” said Bond. 

“I’m rather fond of being able to feel my way around what I’m doing-”

“Fingerless gloves.”

“Fingerless - what?” Garak’s eye ridges furrowed in confusion. Bond tried very hard not to laugh at that.

“You know - gloves that have the tips of the fingers cut off. So your hands stay warm, but you can still feel things.”

“They sound hideous,” mused Garak, “but not entirely impractical.”

“I think they look alright,” said Bond with a shrug, “but then again, Australians aren’t known for their good fashion sense.”

“Ah yes, I recall our conversation about your - what was it - ‘budgie smugglers’?” 

“Oh god,” laughed Bond, “yeah, those. Anyway, I feel your pain with the temperature around here, I’m used to it being pretty significantly warmer too. I just wear thermals under my uniform sometimes.”

“Thermals? I’ve not heard the term applied as a noun before,” said Garak, “and this keeps you warm?”

“Yup, they’re great! You can wear ‘em in the water too and they stay warm.”

“Extraordinary, although I can’t say I’m planning on going for a swim any time soon.”

“That’s a shame,” replied Bond, completely deadpan, “anyway, if you want some I’ll send you the details on where you can get them from.”

“Thank you, that would be much appreciated.”

Bond gave him a nod, and reached out to pat him on the shoulder, though her hand stopped when Garak tensed imperceptibly. 

“Well, I’ll see you later. Someone’ll be down soon to fix up that door of yours.”

“Much appreciated, Lieutenant,” said Garak with a nod.

*

This week, Garak had an odd feeling of apprehension he couldn’t quite put his finger on the source of. It was an odd sense of foreboding that followed him on his way to the replimat for lunch, something in the air that told him danger was nearby. It could have just been paranoia. But then again-

“Garak!” said Julian from across the room, beaming. 

That was odd already. If Julian was already here, why wasn’t he seated? A quick glance around answered that question - he was with a few of his friends, a couple of Lieutenants that looked after the tech on the station. He didn’t quite know their names yet, but he did know that they were friends with the schoolteacher Robertson, who didn’t seem to be around today. In fact, he hadn’t seen them around for quite some time.

“It’s great to see you guys!” said Julian, and then engulfed the first Lieutenant in a hug so tight most of her - significantly shorter - figure disappeared for a moment. He then did the same for the other Lieutenant. Then set his sights on Garak.

“Oh no,” said Garak as Julian approached him, then realised he’d spoken out loud. Julian, his arm already outstretched, hovered awkwardly. Unsure of how to react in this situation, Garak shook his hand instead, and the two of them stared at each other in confusion and horror.

“Lunch?” said Julian, an edge of desperation in his voice.

“Yes,” said Garak.

Surely Julian had done this on purpose. Cajoled his friends into giving him a demonstration of affection so that Garak might feel more… what, comfortable with the prospect? The idea was absurd. He was a grown adult, not some child who was still making his way in the world with no idea of how to interact with others. And besides, these Federation types had a tendency to over-emphasise their casual physical affection to the point where it was, quite frankly, embarrassing to watch. There was no way anybody would catch him indulging like that.

But, said his inner voice, calling it an indulgence was, at the same time, acknowledging that on some level he believed it was a desirable thing.

“Garak?”

Garak jolted out of his reverie. At some point, it appeared that they’d retrieved their food. 

“My apologies Doctor, I was lost in thought there for a moment.”

“... About the book?” said Julian. The innocent look plastered on his face suggested that he was giving Garak an out.

“Yes,” sighed Garak, “about the book. I don’t know what Robertson was thinking recommending that one to the two of us, what a dreadful condemnation of Earth culture. Surely you ought to be embarrassed that it even exists.”

“But that’s the point of it Garak - Midnight Cowboy is… it’s a story about the lonely people in society, the people who have everything going against them.”

Garak pondered this for a moment.

“Homosexuality was taboo on Earth for a long time, wasn’t it?” he said finally.

“Well, yes,” replied Julian, “it would have been illegal at the time the book was written.”

“Terran literature seems to exist in contradiction to itself. On one hand, characters who go “against the grain,” so to speak, tend to be upheld as heroes and protagonists. Individuality is valued so highly, and yet you have this story, about two singularly unique characters who somehow suffer because they have failed to assimilate. Tell me Doctor, what do you make of that?”

Julian was thoughtful for a moment while he chewed his lasagne.

“You’ve got a point there actually. I think that’s part of what a lot of this literature is railing against though, because a lot of Earth’s history is mired in problems of people promoting one ideal and embodying another.”

“Hmm,” said Garak, pondering this himself.

“I don’t need you to tell me it’s a terrible system, by the way. We know it was, that’s why we’ve tried to-”

“If you say “improve ourselves” or some other nonsensical Federation propagandic non-statement, I will personally have you removed from the replimat,” said Garak, spearing some sort of blue vegetable and popping it in his mouth. Julian just smiled and shook his head.

“What about the ah… ending then?” he said, his eyelashes fluttering nervously. Garak’s hands suddenly felt like ice.

“The ending?” replied Garak, stalling for time.

“Yes, the bit… at the end,” said Julian. He was teasing him, which somehow made things worse.

“Well…”

Here it was. An opportunity. Julian had been giving him so many of those lately, but how could he accept? Out here in public, in front of everybody on the station? What was he thinking?   
“It was ridiculous, just like the rest of the book,” said Garak, rolling his eyes for emphasis. Oh dear, Julian was pouting.

“I thought it was sad,” he said. His voice had gone very quiet, like it did when he was especially upset. Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear.

“Sentimentality wins over common sense yet again, my dear Doctor. You’re talking about a man who hugs a corpse who, need I remind you, had just soiled himself mere hours before. On a bus.”

“Look, in an ideal world they would have hugged before that-”

“Or maybe they shouldn’t have entertained that kind of sentimentality in the first place while trying to survive your hellish Terran society!”

Julian was looking at him very closely, and he fought the urge to shrink under his scrutiny.

“Sometimes it’s just nice, you know. To touch someone you like.”

“I wouldn’t know Doctor, I don’t “like” anybody.”

“You’re such a liar Garak-” Julian knocked over his (thankfully empty) glass as he stood abruptly, his chair shrieking as it scraped across the floor of the replimat. Garak watched numbly as he stormed off, then sagged back in his chair. 

“I know,” he said, to nobody in particular.

*

Later that afternoon found Garak in his shop, cursing over an extremely slippery satin that his freezing fingers couldn’t seem to get to sit flat. He’d been cursing over pleats for a good part of the last hour, but it just wasn’t working. They weren’t sitting straight, the fabric was slipping and sliding everywhere, and he’d stabbed himself in the hand more times than he could count. His eyes were dry from staring, his shop was still cold as hell, and god forbid another customer showed up because if someone broke his concentration right now, he was liable to-

An odd, arrhythmic patter of footsteps came from the direction of the doorway, signalling somebody stumbling, rather than walking into the store. Garak told himself that whoever the clumsy visitor was, perhaps they were more interested in having a browse than disturbing him from his work. Yes, that was likely it. He resolutely refused to look up.

The footsteps stopped.

Garak continued pinning, stabbing the tip of his pin a little  _ too _ hard through the fabric and - oh yes, of course he’d puckered it. The previously-smooth fabric now had a little rumpled line in it where the pin had snagged. Wonderful. Garak sighed and placed the fabric down, mentally preparing himself for whatever it was this new customer wanted.

“What can I do for-” 

Garak’s voice trailed off as he looked up, and found Robertson standing in the middle of the store. Their eyes were glazed over and they looked unsteady on their feet, like they were disoriented. In their hands they held a PADD, in a dangerously loose-fingered grip.

“Robertson?” said Garak.

“Hmm, what?” 

They blinked several times, looking as surprised as he felt.

“You’re not Commander Sisko,” they said faintly.

“That’s an astute observation,” said Garak, getting out of his seat. He didn’t know them particularly well, but he knew enough to see that something was very, very wrong here. It was lucky too, because as he approached they finally looked directly at him, and for a second they smiled.

“Whoops,” they said, swayed dangerously for one terrible moment, and then toppled over like a wooden doll. Garak would have loved to say that he caught them in time, but well… it was cold, and he was a little slower than usual.

*

The computer in the infirmary chimed, and Julian Bashir hopped up from his terminal, delighted at finally having something to do. It had been a slow day so far. Savannah was currently taking a sneaky daytime nap on one of the biobeds (a very important part of the process of her resetting his passwords  _ again _ ), and that was about it.

“Doctor Bashir?” said Garak, his voice strained. Julian’s eyes widened in alarm.

“Garak! Are you alright?” he said, trying not to sound too concerned and scare him off.

“I’m perfectly fine, I’ve just got the, er, professor here in my store, and they’ve just… keeled over, it seems.”

“Robertson? Hold on, I’m going to have the two of you beamed in.”

Julian stood back as Garak and Robertson materialised in the infirmary. Robertson had begun to wake, and their expression went very quickly from confused to very, very alarmed.

“It’s alright,” said Julian, rushing over to get them onto a biobed, “we’ve just taken you to the infirmary before you-” Julian stopped in his tracks as Robertson shied away, their eyes darting wildly around until they landed on the door. Escape. Now that he was closer, he did notice that they didn’t look much better than they had last week at Quark’s when they’d said they were tired. As a matter of fact, they looked much worse - white as a sheet and trembling from head to toe.

“Robertson,” said Julian, and he tried to take another step towards them, but froze when they jerked away from him once again.

“Perhaps they’re confused,” said Garak, and Robertson shook their head emphatically at this. Their fists clenched, then unclenched. They took a very long, shaky breath and held it for a few seconds, before exhaling out of their mouth. Suddenly, something clicked in Julian’s mind.

“Computer,” he said, then thought better of it. He couldn’t broadcast a patient’s medical history with Garak and Savannah in the room.

“Cancel request.” 

He went over to the terminal instead and brought up Robertson’s medical history. They hadn’t been in to see him since they’d arrived on the station several months ago. Ah, there it was.  _ Severe anxiety. Specific triggers include medicine and medical procedures. Nonverbal.  _ Oh, dear.

Robertson was still sitting on the floor of the infirmary with Garak, abject terror in their eyes. Garak looked to be at a loss for what to do with them, holding his hands loosely in his lap as he looked curiously from them to Julian, gauging what his next move might be.

_ Will pre-prepare notes before attending appointments. Capable of communicating through Federation Standard Sign if necessary. Sedation recommended in case of emergency. _

Sedation didn’t seem like such a bad idea, given Robertson’s current level of distress. On the other hand, their triggers had included medicine. Did that mean the practice of medicine, or the administration of medications? Or perhaps both? 

Robertson’s breathing had quickened, and Julian knew he had to make a decision fast. 

“Is it alright if I come towards you?” he said softly. 

Robertson considered this for a moment, and then shook their head.

“Okay. I’m going to stay over here then,” said Julian. He sat down on the floor so that the two of them were level, watching each other from across the room. 

“Here’s what I can tell about what’s wrong just from looking. You seem pale and shaky. I would hazard a guess that you’re likely running a fever. Your eyes are glassy and you look tired, like you haven’t slept properly in a while. Am I doing okay?”

Robertson looked surprised at all this, and their breathing seemed to have evened out. 

_ You, okay, doing _ , they signed slowly, looking to see if he had understood.

“Thank you,” said Julian with a smile,  “I would say that the likelihood for you is that you’re just a little run down, you’ve caught some sort of minor bug on the station but instead of resting, you’ve been powering through it. Would I be right there too?”

Robertson lowered their gaze to the floor, but nodded.

“Not being a fan of the infirmary probably didn’t help there, either. Okay, here’s what I need to do - I need to give you a quick scan to figure out exactly what’s making you feel so rotten, and then I need to give you the relevant hypospray for it. The scan you won’t feel at all, but the hypospray-”

_ Hypospray okay _ , signed Robertson, and then gave him a thumbs up.

“...Are you sure?” said Julian.

Robertson was evidently recovering enough to give him a watery-eyed smile and a nod. Julian made a mental note to add that hyposprays seemed to oddly be okay.

“May I come a bit closer to scan you?” said Julian, careful to make no indication that he was about to move. Robertson nodded this time, and he used the cue to scoot forwards on his knees, which he noted made Garak roll his eyes.

“Alright,” he said, sitting cross-legged in front of them, “here’s the tricorder I’m going to use. Do you want to have a look?”

Robertson shook their head, and nodded for him to continue. He scanned them, and smiled.

“Ah, this is a pretty common Bajoran virus - it’s been known to infect other humanoids though, and is somewhat similar to the common cold! I’ll give you a hypospray for it, but you’ll have to stay a while to wait for it to work… and then you’ll have to go back to your quarters to rest.”

Robertson looked a little apprehensive at the biobeds, but nodded slowly.

“Can confirm, it’s very comfy up here!” said Savannah, having been woken up from the commotion. 

Hypospray administered and crisis averted, Robertson was settled as comfortably as possible on the biobed. They still looked a little nervous, so Savannah went over to them.

“Can I give you a hug?” she asked. Robertson nodded  and Savannah enveloped them in a big hug.

"May I?" added Julian, and at Robertson's small noise of assent, he also reached over and hugged them. They were there for a few moments before Savannah's head poked out to the side.

"Garak, we're waiting for you," she said, ignoring the stricken expression that crossed Julian's face.

"Does that help?" he replied, genuine confusion in his expression. 

"Yeah, it does," said Robertson softly, and Garak found himself unable to resist the urge to reach over and allow his arm to cross over Robertson's back, over the top of Julian's hand. He felt the younger man tense slightly at the contact, but said nothing.

"This is warm," he murmured in surprise.

"That's the magic of hugs," said Savannah.

Garak mumbled something about Terran sentimentality, but allowed the warmth from the others to slowly seep into his bones, in a way he hadn't realised could be possible.


End file.
